


Catch you, Catch me

by RuleBritannia



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Gen, Panic Attack, Prompt Fic, Team Dynamics, Trust, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuleBritannia/pseuds/RuleBritannia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=7400469&posted=1#cmt7441941</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch you, Catch me

“Say, Carolyn,” Douglas asked from the front seat of the car in that bored, inconspicuous tone that assured some sort of sarcastic quip was to come. “Do you have some sort of deal with the people of Ipswich?”   
  
“As a matter of fact, I do. I pay them money, they fix my pilots. Not quite the obscure sort of dealings you’re used to, Douglas, but nevertheless necessary.”    
  
“Necessary? Really,” Martin could almost hear him roll his eyes from the back seat. “This sort of thing goes well for bored corporate executives that need to justify their salaries, but we’ve been flying together for nearly three years now! We don’t…”   
  
“Save it, Douglas.” Her irritation was palpable. “If you two idiots knew how to work as a team, things like the trip to Buenos Aires just wouldn’t happen, now would they?”    
  
“As much of an impact as I have on the world as a whole, I hardly consider diplomatic rifts between countries within my reach of influence… yet.”   
  
“No, you’re right. You two trying to one-up each other in front of two petty custom officers, however,  **that**  was very much your fault.”   
  
Martin flinched involuntarily. Lets just say  _cavity_  and  _search_  were two words he never wanted to hear together again, and leave it at that.    
  
“I just hope it’s a bit more like the course in understanding people, than the safety one,” Arthur interjected next to him, more excited than he sounded apprehensive.    
  
“There will be no pools involved or running around in circles, therefore no fainting,” Carolyn answered, staring right at Martin from the review mirror. “I specifically asked about that.”   
  
Martin made himself smaller and looked away. He couldn’t say he agreed with Arthur. As much as a disaster as the SEP course had been, that was something he could study and prepare for. This smelled of interpersonal skills, and it gave him an eerie sort of feeling.   
  
%%%%%%%%%%   
  
“My name is Sylvia, and I’ll be your instructor today!”    
  
The woman sounded inordinately happy; unnaturally so. Martin thought a middle aged professional had no business introducing herself on her first name only, but nobody else seemed to mind. Arthur was smiling brightly, and Carolyn just looked generally annoyed that she was forced to attend as well, just to make bulk. He saw a glint on Douglas’ eyes that told him he would be much more compliant with Sylvia, than he had been with Dr. Duncan and Mr. Sergeant. Good. Martin wanted out of there as soon as possible.    
  
“Lets start with a warm-up exercise, shall we?” She clasped her hands and stared at each and every one of them with a manic grin. “It’ll be fun! It’s a bit like charades…”   
  
“Brilliant!”    
  
There went any hope of their leaving soon. The look of horror on Carolyn and Douglas’ faces almost made it worth it, though.    
  
%%%%%%%%%%   
  
Two hours of floating sticks, balloon kebabs and reflection breaks later, the suspicion he’d had most of his life that he’d probably served in the Luftwaffe during WWII, and had reincarnated with some really bad karma because of it, was starting to be more and more plausible by the minute.    
  
Every exercise Sylvia put them through seemed to escalate in the ridiculous and embarrassing, and designed solely to expose his lack of leadership in the group. Douglas had become bored really fast, and encouraged the instructor to score them points, entertaining himself by humiliating Martin at every turn. Carolyn was moodier and bossier than usual, and every time he was paired up with her, he lost more credibility as a capable human being. Arthur was the only one who seemed to be enjoying himself, and was the light of Sylvia’s eyes, who didn’t seem to really care about the results of the tasks, but the attitude in which they were approached, as she reminded them at every opportunity.    
  
He was wired, and tired, and the small break they’d had for lunch hadn’t helped any. By the time the instructor directed them outside, to the park, Martin hated her with irrational passion. Sylvia didn’t seem to think much of him, either, and would either patronize him or ignore him altogether, which he thought worked to his advantage, really. He had caught her checking her watch, so he took comfort in the hope it wouldn’t be much more of this torture.   
  
“Right, Team! Lets try some trust exercises, next. What do you say?”   
  
_I say go to the special hell they have for proactive, cheery monsters like yourself!_  he thought, but of course only nodded on the outside.    
  
The woman retrieved two pieces of dark fabric from her trick box.   
  
“This is how it works. I’m going to blindfold two of you…”   
  
“Kinky,” Douglas drawled, and the woman flushed a bright red. So did Martin.   
  
“Ehem… Alright, so, the other two are going to guide them through this park, to a place I’ll only tell the two sighted people. But! You must do so without speaking at all! Who should I pick, lets see,” Martin tried to make himself invisible through sheer force of will. “Arthur!”   
  
“Right-O! Will there be a piñata?”   
  
Sylvia laughed, probably under the belief that Arthur was joking, and applied the blindfold on him.    
  
“Aaaand …. Martin!”   
  
_Of course. Of course you would._ He really, really hated her.   
  
The moment his eyes were covered, he noticed something wasn’t quite right.    
  
Martin was not afraid of the dark. He wouldn’t have survived his childhood if he had been. But at that moment, he recognised the beginnings of terror. The size of the hand that was supposed to guide him suggested Carolyn, rather than Douglas. It tugged for him to start moving, but his legs were both frozen and shaking, his back was tense and his breathing laboured. Sylvia had reassured them extensively that nothing would happen, that it was just a game and no one would guide him to a ditch and drop him there, or cause him to trip on purpose. Yet he couldn’t move.    
  
The tugs became more insistent and impatient. Martin tried to calm himself. This was ridiculous! He wasn’t a child, and the exercise was simple enough he could carry it out without embarrassing himself. He barely managed two steps before he was frozen in place again, and he clearly heard Carolyn’s exasperated sigh.    
  
He heard whispering, and Carolyn let go of his hand. For a few agonizing seconds, he feared they would just leave him there, forgotten and blindfolded, but soon her hand was replaced by Douglas’. He thought, with mild relief, that maybe it would make a difference. His relief lasted the grand total of three hesitant steps. The combined inexplicable terror and shame at failing at the stupidest thing made him panic properly, and he thought he’d have a heart attack or pass out if he didn’t put an end to it.    
  
Martin removed the blindfold hastily, red with embarrassment, and blinked at the sudden light.   
  
“I… I’m sorry… I…” he gasped for breath. Distantly, he noticed that Carolyn and Arthur were already at their destination, and staring at him with frowns on their faces. Douglas just looked exasperated (probably at having lost) “My inner-ear problem…” he lied, hoping to save face.   
  
The instructor didn’t seem happy with his answer, but didn’t comment on it.   
  
“Right!” Her smile was a bit strained now. She beckoned Arthur and Carolyn to join them. “We’ll have to try something else. This next one you might have heard of. You will have to let yourself fall back, and trust that the person behind you will catch you, ok? Carolyn, you think you’re up to catching Douglas?”   
  
Carolyn bristled. Douglas just raised one dubitative eyebrow before proceeding. It turned out Carolyn was a lot stronger than she looked. Then it was Douglas’ turn to catch Carolyn, and Martin’s turn to catch Arthur. When it was his turn to let himself fall, Arthur diligently waiting behind him, the panic came back, worse yet than before, feeding itself with the added fear of ridicule. He could barely lean back before the vertigo had made him doubt even the ground under him.    
  
Martin felt tears welling up, as an exasperated Sylvia instructed a dejected Arthur to move aside and let Douglas take his place, then Carolyn. Nothing. He couldn’t move. His whole body was shaking by then, and his nails dug into his palms until he drew blood, as if pain would make him snap out of it.    
  
He didn’t know for how long he’d stood there, but it seemed like forever, before he snapped, angry, and turned to the group.   
  
“I can’t, ok?! I know! I’m useless!”   
  
He made a dash for the parking lot, wishing the ground would swallow him on the way.   
  
%%%%%%%%%%   
  
He hid in between two cars, not only for the cover, but the small, dark corner he had desperately wanted to crawl into. He hadn’t cried. At least he could pride himself in that, if anything. He was doing a lot of sighing, though. He suspected his blood pressure was dangerously low, his body asking him for sugar after the adrenaline had rushed through him, but he couldn’t risk it going back inside and face the others just yet.   
  
He was used to his panic in small, continuous doses. It might have surprised many of his acquaintances to know he hardly ever had a panic attack, and was not particularly phobic. So, much as he tried, he could not explain what had happened. At least, not with anything he wanted to admit to himself. Because really, what kind of a Captain doesn’t trust his own crew? What kind of a man doesn’t trust his own friends?   
  
He heard them coming and sighed again, this time in resignation, and run a tired hand through his face. They would want an explanation, and he didn’t have one to give. Hopefully it would all blow over after some merciless teasing and they could finally go home.    
  
Three sets of shoes entered his field of vision, but he didn’t lift his head. Douglas cleared his throat. There it came, the teasing.  _Come on, give it your best shot._   
  
“Truth, Respect, Understanding, Support, and Trustworthiness,” Douglas said, in a kind, subdued voice, and Martin’s head snapped up, mostly out of confusion. “At least that is what Sylvie said, though, between you and me, I think she might be a bit full of it.”   
  
“I’m sorry?”   
  
“You don’t trust us,” Arthur provided sadly. Martin felt like he’d just kicked a puppy.    
  
He stood up, nervously looking between Arthur’s upset face, Carolyn’s guarded expression and Douglas’ unreadable one.    
  
“Of course I trust you! I definitively trust you! How could I… I mean… I do! I trust you!”   
  
“You definitively  **should** ,” said Douglas, raising his eyebrows. “But you obviously don’t.”    
  
“I… I…” God, he was panicking again.   
  
“She said… “ Carolyn’s tone was small, the one she used when she didn’t know what to do with what she was feeling. “She’s rubbish and I doubt her claim that she’s a real therapist, but she said that trust is based on telling the truth, respecting one another, understanding each other,…”   
  
“Supporting one another,” continued Arthur mournfully.    
  
“And behaving in a trustworthy manner,” finished Douglas, “You see how we may be lacking in some of those areas towards you.”   
  
“That’s…” Martin drew a deep breath and frowned. “That’s rubbish!” He heard Carolyn mutter a  _That’s what I said_  under her breath. “And unfair! I behave in the same way towards you!”   
  
“Perhaps,” Douglas looked at him square in the eye, and it wasn’t pity there, but compassion? “We can understand that under all that, you really care about us, and we wouldn’t doubt putting our lives in your hands, because you’ve proven to us they would be in good care. Perhaps, we haven’t proven that to you?”   
  
He gulped, his eyes filling with tears again. Wonderful.   
  
“I do trust you,” he whispered, “with my life, at least, everyday. But…” he pressed his eyes with his thumbs, feeling so small all of the sudden. “Maybe not with other things?” he admitted. Like his problems, until it became too much, or his flaws until he screwed up badly, or his fears or his moments of weakness.    
  
Thumbs are not good enough barriers for tears, or hiccups or sobs, he discovered.   
  
“You idiot child,” Carolyn said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We love you, you know? We would never let you fall.”    
  
Hesitantly, a bit fearfully still, he leaned against Carolyn, who held true to her word, and held him steady. He rested his head on her shoulder.   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
“You should be,” she admonished, patting his back. “But so are we.”   
  
“Yes, Skip, sorry.”    
  
He smiled tearfully at Arthur, feeling he’d been particularly unfair to him. Arthur, of course, smiled back.   
  
“C’mon,” Douglas’ tone was lighter. “I think we’ve had quite enough of Ipswich for a lifetime. Lets go home.”


End file.
